


Rain

by Evil_Little_Dog



Series: Marking Time [6]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  She just wished it would rain. <br/>Disclaimer:  Arakawa owns all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

There were two only colors in Rush Valley – red, the particular ochre of the rocks that made up much of the landscape and the faded pinks of the adobe that housed the inhabitants and visitors, and metallic grey, the color of the automail that the denizens made for each other and, again, for those visitors.

Winry was never quite fond of the color red; it reminded her of things she’d rather not think on and that metallic grey, well, being an automail mechanic, steel and other silver hued metals made up a big part of her life. But she found the color she really missed was green.

Rush Valley had little green going for it, not with all the red rock around and the mining that kept the automail mechanics in business. Fresh fruits and vegetables were brought in by train and sometimes by wagon. Trees didn’t grow in the valley or in the subsequent land around it. Yards with lush green lawns didn’t exist and flowers were equally nonexistant.

But when the rains came, quick and sudden and as dangerous as facing a wild cat with cubs, flowers shot up to soften the landscape with hues of whites and creams and purples and blues. Bees appeared as if called by the flowers, loading themselves with nector and pollen, trying hard to harvest the crop before the sun withered it into dust. And for a few days, after the rains, Winry remembered sun-drenched afternoons spent sprawled in grass tall enough to hide in, secrets shared in whispers amongst the daffodils, playing hide and seek with the fireflies as the sun slid over the horizon.

Rush Valley had none of those memories contained within the canyon walls though she made new ones here; pounded them out with sheet metal and extruded them with wire; coiled them up in spools and riveted them in place. And a part of her was happy, learning so much about her craft, being able to immerse herself in automail techniques and theoroms and being able to test the same on her newfound patients.

But another part of her just wished for green days and rain, falling endlessly from the sky to make the flowers grow.


End file.
